Moonlight
by LittleOtter
Summary: Bluebell's second night in the Honeycomb warren.


A/N: Obviously, I am not Richard Adams. I would hope that you knew that before you clicked the link. Kindly refrain from suing me; I promise you it won't do much good.

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_Rabbits screamed, a high-pitched, terrified sound that chilled the hearer to the bone. Does, savage with panic, struck out at anyone they encountered. Kittens wailed, lost and half-tharn. Then, worse than the screams, the silence. _

_It spread from the few open exits, stealing down into the depths of the burrow. Rabbits fell, their bodies blocking the runs and trapping their comrades. Others, frantic, dug into the hard, earth walls to escape, and into the corpses of their friends and littermates when that failed. And everywhere, that choking, pervading air…_

_Trapped._

I started awake. Before I even moved, my senses told me that nothing was wrong. Fresh air filtered down one of the runs on the opposite side of the Honeycomb, weaving through the burrow and out on my end, carrying the contented scents of rabbits well-fed and asleep. There was Thlayli, and Hlao still smelling faintly of the clover that had been his supper. Strawberry I recognized by the tinge of security and overindulgence that still clung to him from the strange burrow. There was Hazel, the one they had made prince. Holly's scent was by now as familiar as my own, tainted still with the unsettling, metallic odor of blood.

Thus reassured, I stretched myself out on the cool, earthy floor of the run and tried to get back to sleep. The moment I stopped focusing on the sounds and smells of the Honeycomb, memories of the horrible morning when the Threarah's burrow and the field were destroyed rushed back. I buried my nose in the loose dirt on the floor like a kitten hiding in the fur of its littermates, my mind scrambling frantically for a joke. That was how Captain Holly and I managed to escape, keeping the terror behind us at bay through petty bits of rabbit humor, laughing where there was nothing amusing simply to keep going. _What did the first blade of grass say to the second blade of grass?_ I thought desperately. _Look, there's a rabbit! We're in danger!_ I choked, whether through silent laughter or sobs I could not tell. We had been as vulnerable as grass before an army of rabbits. _No,_ I realized abruptly. _Rabbits don't destroy completely._ A hrududu, perhaps. It all came back to man.

A pool of living silver cast by the new-risen moon trickled down the mouth of the run. I lifted my gaze to its face, ancient and wise with the joys and griefs of millennia, and felt a pang of sorrow. For my home. For the hrair rabbits buried under the torn field. For the inexorable doom laid on us and our children to be always hunted, always running. It crashed over me, a terrible wave of pain and undefinable longing, and just as quickly fell away.

I stood to my feet, shaking the dirt off my coat, and loped quietly to the entrance. There I stopped and drew back uncertainly.

Fiver sat on a nearby hillock facing the moon, utterly calm. Starlight and moonlight mingled shimmering in his fur, infinity's caress to mortal. It struck me suddenly, though I had known it, that it had been Fiver who had warned the Threarah, Fiver who had known Beyond. A shiver of awe passed through me. What I had seen of death and suffering in my own brief lifetime was more than enough for me; I couldn't begin to imagine seeing more than my share. _Of course,_ I mused, heightened respect for the small rabbit before me blossoming. _Life isn't all fear and pain._ Maybe Fiver's vision extended beyond all that.

He sighed deeply then, and stirred, turning towards me. I remembered what I was doing and moved out of the Honeycomb's entrance. "I couldn't sleep," I offered apologetically. I hadn't meant to disturb him.

"I know," he said without elaboration. Then, "There's an early cowslip by that rock, if you want it."

I glanced at him sharply. Cowslips were a delicacy. In my experience, the older, stronger rabbits took such things from the weaker; nothing was ever given freely. But Fiver's face showed nothing.

"Don't you want it?" I asked cautiously.

He shook his head. "I've already silfed tonight, and anyway there'll be lots here. Go on and take it."

I privately thought that Fiver could use the extra nourishment far more than I, but no one was in danger of starvation here, and he had offered it to me. "Thank you."

He watched me eat quietly before scratching his ear with one hind leg. "You did well," he said. "With Holly, I mean. Most rabbits would have stopped running in that situation." He paused. "Most did."

I chewed the leaf slowly, savoring the flavor. There was nothing to be said to that. Was I expected to be proud of the fact that I, by some cruel twist of fate, had survived where stronger, better rabbits than I had not?

"It's not your fault," Fiver said softly. "You could no more have saved the warren single-handed than I."

"You should have been able to," I cried. "And it's partially my fault that you couldn't!"

"Partially," he repeated, and sighed. "In the old warren, I was only the crackpot runt of an oversized litter. Less than twenty rabbits believed me at all, and less than half of that believed me enough to leave their comfortable, structured lives."  
I swallowed and looked down, wretched in my guilt.

"Bluebell, even if you had believed me, you would have only been able to save yourself. But look! Because you stayed behind, both you and Holly were saved, and our loss is that much lighter."

I could not understand this. "So you are saying that it was a good thing that I didn't believe you?" I asked, seeds of outrage whirling beneath the frost in my voice.

He shook his head vehemently. "No! I wish that you and every other rabbit there had come away. But don't you see?" He was fairly quivering with excitement now, deep eyes sparkling. "Frith brought good from it anyway, and now there is life and joy where there was only a memory of death before."

I had not thought of it in that light. But now, as I attempted to comprehend what came so simply and naturally to Fiver, the ache of loss that had been my companion since that morning eased ever so slightly. I regretted my own actions no less –that shame would linger with me until my death– but I felt just a little less sorrow over the events of that day, the smallest ray of hope penetrating my black grief.

"I'm sorry that I didn't believe you," I said.

He flicked on ear to the side, as if a fly and landed on it. "You were forgiven even as we fled." Silence fell for a long moment, in which the distant sounds of trees in the wind could be heard. "You should get some rest," he said. "Hazel says you didn't sleep at all last night."

I nodded mutely and hopped slowly back to the hole I had emerged from. Pausing at the entrance, I turned back to him, pale silver in the moonlight as I had found him. "Thank you," I said again, and went back to my place in the warren.

Within minutes, I was asleep.

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Reviews are much appreciated! That includes constructive criticism (aka flames…). If you see a misspelled word, slip of grammar, or anything else, please tell me. This hasn't been beta'd or anything, so I would guess that there are a couple of mistakes….

Thanks!


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